The Meaning of Change
by Rhya Storm
Summary: This is a story about Sarah: the girl who bested the Labyrinth. This is a story about Jareth: the King whose heart was broken by a mortal girl. This is a story about Darius: the blind deputy who can see past all differences. This is their story.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my very first Labyrinth fanfiction. Yes, it is (eventually) S/J. But I really wanted to explore the structure of the Underground, as well as Jareth's own kingdom. Darius belongs entirely to me. Why is he Scottish? Because I made him so.

Disclaimer: I do not own Jareth, Sarah, the Labyrinth, the world, or the other copyrighted characters. They belong to Jim Henson Studios. I _do_ own Darius, Wendell, Cook, Jetsam, Adie, and anyone else not mentioned in the movie. Mine! All MINE!

_

* * *

__Prologue_

Jareth sighed softly as he walked into his study. It was a nice room, a very nice room – and enchanted left and right so the goblins would stay out of it. The colors were warm, the carpeting was thick, and the armchairs and such were well-stuffed and comfortable. The perfect room in which to relax and unwind. This room was one of the two sole reasons Jareth managed being Goblin King so very well. He allowed a small smile to cross his face as he settled into his favorite chair, relaxing for the first time in his very, _very_ long day.

At that moment, the second reason Jareth managed the post of King of the Goblins opened the door and half-walked, half-staggered in. The 'second reason' was really a person – or more precisely, something commonly referred to in the Underground as a 'cat-hawk'. He was tall, as tall as Jareth – really, he had an inch or so on the Goblin King, but obviously this was _not_ common knowledge. He looked young – you'd peg him for a slightly serious eighteen, maybe. He had dark brown skin and silky black hair that hung about as long as Jareth's did; only he wore his straight down. Large, triangular cat ears stuck out the sides of his head, twitching to catch every sound – black feathers poked haphazardly out of his hair. A long tail lashed behind him, tipped in more black feathers – his feet were oddly proportioned, with three large toes that looked like demented paws. A cane was held tightly in one of his clawed hands, which he immediately dropped on the floor upon entering the room. He groaned as he flopped heavily into the seat across from Jareth, then sagging and laying there like a corpse.

"Long day, Darius," Jareth commented conversationally, mentally agreeing with his companion. It had been an exhausting eighteen or so hours, and he ached all over. First there had been that business with the Bog … and the fireys had been running amok in the hedge maze again, trying to puzzle out the Wise Man and his Bird Hat, who tried to sue the fireys for damage to his feathers. It took _hours_ to sort that one out. And then the cobblestone goblins had revolted, resulting in a miniature battle involving lots of upturned walkways, mud, gravel, and, for some odd reason, three-day-old tapioca pudding. And _then_ the goblins had the brilliant idea to throw a fairy revel – in the castle. It took over four hours of hard work just to round the little flying devils up, especially with all the goblins falling over themselves to help, thus getting in the way even more. And then a section of the Labyrinth had fallen down due to a strange fungus that ate away mortar … the list went on and on. Darwinian's Law at its best … or worst.

Darius only groaned loudly in reply. Jareth had no doubt that his friend's day had been just as bad, if not worse, than his own. Darius managed the castle. He managed the Goblin City, and the minor to medium-major disputes. He held down the fort. He took care of the paperwork, with much help from a literate goblin maid named Wendell. He made sure the food was edible, the castle wasn't falling down around their ears, and that anyone visiting was kept out of the way until Jareth could deal with them, especially the dangerous ones. He dealt with disgruntled Bog-dwellers, he took care of the babes when Jareth couldn't find the time, he read the goblins to sleep, he helped shore up anything that fell apart in the castle or city … again, the list went on and on. Jareth privately thought of Darius as his saving grace.

Jareth also respected the diligent and stubborn cat-hawk immensely. Not only did he manage all of the above (and more), but he did all this without the benefit of sight. That was to say, he was blind. Fairly recently, actually, only about a year or so, but he was adjusting nicely, and could still handle all his old jobs (with the help of Wendell, who read aloud the paperwork for him). And yet, through all of this work, they still found time for the occasional prank war. The last one had involved neon orange spray paint, superglue, copious amounts of glitter, and several tons of canned cream corn. Needless to say, theirs was a very … rough-around-the-edges friendship. But they lived a fairly comfortable life – as comfortable as two bachelors can be when they're co-running a kingdom, anyway.

Finally, Darius deigned to speak up. "Bad day. Bad day bad day bad day … very, very bad day."

Jareth smiled widely in that slightly predatory grin of his. "Oh, yes. Very bad day, indeed," he agreed feelingly, watching as his friend reached up and untied the bandanna he wore around his eyes. Darius' eyes were not the prettiest sight in the world. The once bright-gold orbs were clouded, with a jagged line running through each. The skin around his eyes was visibly scarred, though it went away little by little each year. Not very quickly, though. As Darius knew that the sight of his eyes disturbed some people, including most of the goblins (who bluntly claimed, when interrogated, that the sight put them off their dinners), he deigned to wear a blindfold instead. Jareth insisted that he remove it when they were alone, however; the Goblin King hated not being able to look him in the eyes, regardless of the fact that Darius could not look back.

Throwing the length of cloth heedlessly on the floor, Darius said in a matter-of-fact voice; "With a day as bad as this, you realize there is really only one thing to do."

"Yes, only one thing," Jareth agreed solemnly.

"Get drunk."

"Very drunk."

"Falling-down drunk."

"Insufferably drunk."

"I'm-so-drunk-I-can't-think-straight,-let-alone-walk-straight drunk."

"Yes," Jareth settled, standing up. "Very, very drunk indeed."

"I'll get the wine … I think we have some 597 vodka in there somewhere…" Darius got up and felt his way to a high, cherry-wood cabinet and opened it, feeling about for a moment before pulling out a tall, worn bottle. He turned it so it was facing Jareth. "This the one?"

"Yes." Jareth nodded only out of habit, but somehow Darius picked up on it and grinned, displaying oversized canines as he set the vodka on the table and reached into the cabinet for some glasses. He came up with two small, crystal glasses and sat down, extending them both to Jareth, who uncorked the bottle and filled them both, taking one for himself.

Jareth slouched languorously in his chair, sipping the alcohol, while Darius curled up in the seat of his own armchair very much like the feline he resembled, downing the glass in one gulp. Suddenly, Darius chuckled.

"What?" Jareth demanded, eyeing his friend questioningly. Darius shook his head, still lightly laughing. "Nothing, Jareth _bach, _I was just remembering … the last time I saw you drunk, and I was still conscious enough to remember, you re-did your hair into some braided ponytails …" he faded off into soft chuckles, obviously pleased with his memory.

Jareth scowled. "You will repeat that to _no one_, or I'll –"

"Yeah, yeah, tip me headfirst into the Bog of Eternal Stench, I know, I know," Darius brushed away the threat with a wave of his hand and a good-natured snicker. His slight Highland accent, mostly gone since the time he'd first come to the Labyrinth, resurfaced slightly when he was amused, or reminiscing. "You really should come up with some different threats, you know, I think I've heard them all."

Jareth rolled his eyes, snorting. "The Bog is fine," he retorted stubbornly. "Have you ever smelled it?"

"Numerous times," Darius replied dryly. "In person _and_ reeking from those you toss in there and come to complain to me. My sense of smell _is_ a mite better than yours, I'll wager …"

If Jareth hadn't been Goblin King, he probably would have pouted. As it was, all he could do was snort again and shift in his chair, knowing that Darius was right and unwilling to admit it.

Darius ran a claw lightly around the rim of his glass, causing it to vibrate musically. "Sooo …" he said finally, "what's this I hear about a Council meeting?"

"What Council meeting?" Jareth replied evasively, taking another sip of his vodka.

"Oh, the one in a couple of weeks to which you _have_ to attend or there'll be hell to pay … the first one you'll have gone to since … my accident." Council Meetings were few and far between, occurring about three times over the course of two years. The spacing between this one and the last had been slightly long, but then sometimes it was slightly short.

Jareth was quiet, and they both knew why. Ever since Darius had become an indispensable part of the kingdom, he had attended every Fae council with Jareth. It was custom to bring your most loyal servants or followers to Court. So, Jareth brought his friend, who made quite the impression, being a skilled warrior and talented in his own right. And if people thought he was a follower or servant … well, that was their own conclusion, not necessarily the truth.

But now there was a problem. If Darius did not attend this one, it could be construed as a weakness, and the other Fae Lords and Ladies may take it as a provocation to move in on the Labyrinth's domains. But if Darius _did_ attend, and it became known that he was, in fact, blinded … that could be seen as an even _worse_ weakness. And therein lay the dilemma, not one easily solved.

In short, Darius was a weakness, a weakness of the Goblin King. He was only this because of the Fae, the Sidhe, the cold, cruel ones, only a weakness because they made him one. In truth, he was a strength. But now … now, they had to keep him from becoming a weakness despite both their best intentions.

Jareth's hand suddenly clenched into a fist, pounding down sharply onto the table, making Darius jump slightly and look at Jareth querulously. Jareth hissed in frustration. "Damn Alaric!" he growled, letting his long-pent-up rage shine through. Darius cocked his head but was silent, his expression unreadable.

Alaric, Lord of the Kelpies, was the one who was to blame for Darius' loss of sight. It was a kelpie who had blinded him, but as to which one, or if it was Alaric himself, they did not know. The problem was, however, that Alaric was allied with the Unseelie Court, while the Goblin Kingdom was one of the 'fringe' kingdoms – not belonging to any court or allegiance, of which there were many, with the Elders of the Council holding final sway. If Jareth accused Alaric of the crime without solid evidence – of which they really had none, as the culprit had covered his tracks remarkably well – the consequence could and _would_ be nothing short of disastrous.

Which, of course, frustrated the Goblin King to _no_ end. Jareth considered his subjects, each and every one, to be under his _personal_ protection. He was very protective of what he considered 'his', and technically, Darius was as subject of the Goblin Kingdom, having originally been wished there. Thus, Darius was his; _his_ subject, _his_ confidant, _his_ second-in-command, _his_ best friend. Jareth wanted _payback_. He wanted revenge on Alaric, which he fully deserved, to his way of thinking, anyways. Darius rarely voiced his opinions on the subject, preferring to avoid it whenever possible.

Darius sighed, then said, "I shouldn't go. Maybe later, when we can handle the Seelie and Unseelie and Tír na nÓg Courts breathing down our necks, but not this time. Not this time. Take …" He paused a moment, then said, "Jetsam. He's an imposing figure, and can keep a secret. And Sir Didymus. I know you're not fond of him, but he's fiercely loyal, and fearless. He won't divulge anything you don't want him to."

Jareth frowned, unsatisfied, though he knew it was the best he was going to get. They were good choices, the best they had, really. Darius was right; Jetsam, a powerful _kobold_, would impress the Lords and Ladies of the Courts, and Sir Didymus was loyal and true, a testament to the loyalty of his subjects.

He just wished that it would be his trusted friend at his side, instead of trusted subjects.

"It's all we can do," Darius said quietly, reading Jareth's thoughts. "I'll send a summons for Didymus and Jetsam tomorrow. But after this is over, I demand one thing." Jareth looked at him curiously. "You. Me. Prank War. Here. Immediately Following Council Meeting."

Jareth laughed, a sound that chilled most people, but now was honest and genuine. Darius grinned, waggling his eyebrows up and down in a mischievous manner. "I have new plans of attack," he taunted, setting down his glass. "The Incident of the Canned Cream Corn Flood? Absolutely _nothing_ compared to this one."

Jareth raised an eyebrow, trademark smirk spreading over his face. "Oh, I'll have plenty of time at the Council meeting to think up suitable tortures," he promised the cocky cat-hawk.

"It's a plan, Jareth _bach_, it's a plan!" Darius agreed boisterously, his Highland origins showing through his speech once more. Jareth refilled the glasses and raised his in the air. "A toast!" he proclaimed loudly, Darius laughing as he raised his own glass.

"To the damn Council!"

"Tae successful Prank Wars!"

"To the downfall of Alaric!"

"Tae Sir Didymus, an' his feathered hat!"

The last gave Jareth pause, before he shrugged it off and clinked his glass with Darius', guiding the cat-hawk's hand slightly so they met. With that, they downed the glasses and reached for more, good moods returning with abundance as the crystalline Underground moon shone brightly in the outside nighttime sky.

_

* * *

_

_One week later …_

Jareth sat on the throne with his head in his hands, ignoring the goblins that crept cautiously along before him, all stealing occasional glances at their ruler before scurrying away. He didn't look up as the familiar "tap-tapping" of Darius' cane echoed through the hallway, or even when Darius himself entered the room.

The cat-hawk made his steady way to the throne, whereupon he reached out and fumbled for a moment before touching Jareth's shoulder and resting his hand there. The two stood like that for a moment in silence, each thinking his own thoughts.

Finally, Jareth looked over at his friend, searching Darius' face for some sign of … mockery, exasperation, pity, annoyance, he didn't know. He found nothing but a calm willingness to both speak and listen. "Well?" he finally said, his voice slightly hoarse. "What have you come to say to me?"

Darius twitched his ears, his expression saddening slightly. "Must one always seek out one's friend merely to say something?" he asked lightly, attempting a slight grin.

Jareth clenched one hand tightly, angrily, before relaxing once more and sighing in defeat. "I lost," he admitted, though it pained him to do so.

"You lost more than just a game," Darius replied steadily. "But then, not all of it was a game, was it?" Jareth shook his head, the pain of Sarah's rejection renewing afresh. He loved her, adored her – truly, he did. But … he was so _angry_!

"She _completely_ rejected me," he said hotly, eyes blazing. "I offered her _everything_, and she threw it in my face! _I have no power over her_." How dare she reject him? _Him_! The Goblin King! He was well and truly confused, and was currently sulking in order to avoid his tumultuous emotions. Unfortunately, Darius had other plans.

Darius sighed. "Jareth, ye're a right _daftie_," he said matter-of-factly, relapsing into his broad, natural Highland speech again in his exasperation. "Did ye nae _think _for e'en a _blink_? The lass be only a bairn, d'ye think she truly kenned what ye were sayin'?"

Jareth blinked for a moment before saying blankly; "Bairn? Kenned? Daftie?" He could _never_ understand Darius when the cat-hawk lapsed into his own vernacular.

Darius laughed. "I mean … did you even _think_ for a _moment_? She's only a child, do you think she really understood what you were saying to her?"

Jareth blinked again, this time in surprise. Why … _of course!_ She _was_ still a child, really, especially in mind. Of course she hadn't understood … he'd been the villain the entire time for her – for Sarah, the game had never halted, as it had for him in the broken Escher room. Yes … yes, she really had been much too young.

Darius cocked his head, sensing the sudden change in mood in his friend. He smiled, satisfied with his work. "So you're going to wait?" he inquired, already knowing the answer.

Jareth smirked. "Yes. But I _will_ come for her." His eyes gleamed predatorily.

"Ye shan't own her as a sasine – a possession," Darius admonished his friend warningly. "Ye shall own her as ye own meself – in _name_ only, and maybe, someday, in heart."

Thankfully, Jareth had caught the gist of that statement – Darius didn't feel up to repeating the fact that, not only did he 'belong' to Jareth, but was utterly loyal to him as well. That just wasn't something you reminded the Goblin King of when you insisted upon being his equal.

"I know." The predatory light faded slightly from his eyes, though by no means banished completely. "But don't think for a moment I shall forget about her."

Darius chuckled. "Not for a moment, Jareth _bach_," he assured his friend. "She's a grand wee lassie, e'en for one o' the Fír – the Humankind."

Jareth laughed at Darius' light teasing. "That she is, for a mortal," he agreed.

Darius smirked, remembering a song that was quite appropriate for Jareth at the moment. Music was a part of the Labyrinth, a part of life and magic itself – it was everywhere, in everything. Jareth preferred recent mortal music, loud and brash and bold, whereas Darius favored the ancient songs of his homeland of the Isla – the Faerie Scotland.

"_Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,  
Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine,  
I wad wear thee in my bosom,  
Lest my jewel I should tine_."

Jareth smirked, thinking of Sarah as Darius' broad tones swept over the castle. The cat-hawk loved to sing just as much as Jareth himself, something they both indulged in as often as possible.

"_Wistfully, I look and languish  
In that bonnie face of thine.  
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish  
Lest my wee thing be nae mine. _

_Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,  
Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine,  
I wad wear thee in my bosom,  
Lest my jewel I should tine. _

_Wit and Grace and Love and Beauty  
In ae constellation shine!  
To adore thee is my duty  
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!"_

Jareth could only make out about three-fifths of the song, but what he heard was more than enough to grasp its meaning, which was good enough for him. At the end, he joined in with Darius at the last chorus, his European tones blending nicely with the cat-hawk's Highland burr.

"_Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,  
Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine,  
I wad wear thee in my bosom,  
Lest my jewel I should tine."_

* * *

A/N: Well? What do you think? I know, I know, I'm starting yet _another_ story when I have so many others demanding my attention ... but this sort of grabbed me. It's more serious and well-written than anything else I have, that's for sure. And yes, "Bonnie Wee Thing" is a traditional Scottish song. They sing all the time in the Labyrinth, really; it's part of their lives and their magic. Music - such a wonderful thing.

Review, please. OR I SHALL NEVER UPDATE! No, not really, but still review, okay?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: WHOOOOOT! I'm so glad so many people like my story! It's really a pleasure to write. The weird thing is all the long chapters in such a short amount of time ... normally my chapters are much shorter ... wow ...

For my adoring (and much adored) reviewers:

**Aurora Ranger:** Wow ... such a long review! **((hugs))** I figured, this is gonna be a continuation of the original movie, and so it should have some depth, right? So many fics just have original ways of getting Jareth and Sarah together and don't focus on much else. But there's so much _else_ to focus on! That's why this isn't going to revolve around the romance, everything else is just too interesting to ignore. So, here's the requested chapter, all spiffied up and such!

**Bailaora:** Hmm. Yes, "bach" is Welsh, but they don't speak just Scottish in Scotland, and Wales _is_ nearby, and I really like the word. It has "Darius" written all over it. And it may mean 'baby' literally, but in this context I'm using the Encarta Dictionary definition: "bach: affectionate form of address to a man or boy, alone or after somebody's name." Thanks for pointing that out, though, I didn't know it had other meanings! **((more hugs!))** And I'm so glad you like it!

**Bess**: **((falls over))** OKAY! I UPDATED! I'M GLAD YOU LOVED IT!

**Lonewolf-chica:** Wow, you're going to delete from your favorite stories to make room for this! **((shock and awe))** Wow, I'm so honored, thank you!

**Ashira:** I'm so so so _so_ glad you like Darius! So far, anyways, heheh ... I was afraid people wouldn't like him, most of the time I see Jareth getting a best friend/second-in-command with either a really forceful, military-ish personality, or with a laid-back personality that is almost as bad as Jareth's, if not worse, and Darius isn't either of those. I'm glad you like the random bits of humor! (The goblins get all the tapioca pudding that the schools never use, and even _they_ don't like it, so they give it to the puny little cobblestone goblins. Who hate it. This is what led to the revolt in the first place, but as you can see, Jareth really has no idea.)

* * *

Jareth _hated _Council Meetings.

With a passion, he hated them. He despised them, reviled, loathed, and detested them. And, for once, he truly had good reason to do so.

Council Meetings weren't truly meetings. That is to say, once in a while, all the Fae and Sidhe and Fair Folk and Duskie rulers and leaders and kings and queens would gather together to catch up on goings on between kingdoms, perhaps bring up a territorial dispute to the Elders, or some other such complaint. Other than that, if nothing truly serious concerning the kingdoms was going on, it was basically a large social event, where rulers and their followers and servants met and mingled and danced and made polite chit-chat.

Jareth couldn't stand polite chit-chat, though he realized its necessity in the neverending game of intrigue that so captivated so many of the Courts – a game in which he was an unwilling player all too often. He didn't enjoy playing by another's rules. He was used to creating his own rules. Having to grit his teeth and play along with the other rulers needled him ceaselessly. Normally, Darius would be there, acting as his anchor, restoring his short patience with his mere presence, which was always calm and steady. That was just the sort of person he was. But this time … this time, it was that bothersome Sir Didymus, that knightly fox with his manic energy and archaic mannerisms, and Jetsam, the tall, wiry, demonic _kobold _with his silent, slightly threatening behavior that persuaded anyone approaching him to leave the vicinity as quickly as possible.

The aura about both his subjects did not do wonders for his mood. The hum of speculation surrounding the absence of Darius did not help matters very much, either, all of which amounted to a very surly Goblin King.

"E-excuse me, Your Majesty." A stammering, nervous voice interrupted Jareth's thoughts. He looked down to see a young pixie standing before him. She was small, but then all pixies were, even in their larger forms, which was what she had assumed for the meeting. Her long tawny hair, streaked with darker shades of brown, hung down three-quarters of the way down her back, with a long single braid hanging down one side of her face, braided with ribbons of earthy brown and green. Her ears were long and delicately pointed, her cheekbones high and her eyes slanted, their shade a muddy brown. Her skin was light, tanned slightly from the summer sun. She wore simple clothing, though attractive nonetheless, her dress made of more earthy tones of blue and green. Jareth had seen this particular pixie many times before – apparently she was a skilled spell-singer for health and beauty, young but not extremely so – talking with Darius. They gravitated towards each other every meeting, talking for lengthy periods of time. Jareth had the suspicion that she had a slight crush developing on the handsome and friendly cat-hawk, though he knew that Darius felt her to be a good friend. Her name was … Ada? No, Adie, that was it. One of the simpler names – the pixies were of German origins. The Goblin Kingdom was one of the few kingdoms that was common to practically all the cultures of the Aboveground.

"Yes?" he said finally, when it became clear that she was too intimidated to continue.

"Ah – I-I was wondering, Your Majesty, where –" she stammered, obviously ill at ease, her discomfort and nervousness showing up vividly on her face. "I was wondering, Your Highness, where … where Darius is." She stood there, her eyes fixed on his face as if she was too frightened to look anyplace else. What kind of horror stories did Queen Didrika spread about him to her servants that this young pixie was so terrified of him?

Jareth looked at her for a moment, each passing second increasing Adie's discomfort, before replying easily, "Why ask me? Why not ask one of my subjects?" Seeing her chastised face he added, "Surely you'd be more at ease with them."

Hesitantly, Adie shook her head. "Begging your pardon, but no, Your Majesty," she whispered. "The _kobold_ frightens me, and the fox knight is … indulging in the drink a bit much, sir. So I … I came to ask you."

Jareth cocked his head, fixing her with his coolest stare. Finally, he replied, "He is in my kingdom."

She bit her lip, as if gathering her courage, before continuing, "Yes, but why did he not come? He always …" she swallowed. "He always comes," she finished quietly.

"Yes," a sharp voice that was not loud so much as carrying added as a tall figure approached the two. "Why, indeed, has the faithful Darius not come this day?" Jareth sneered angrily at the intruder, who was none other than Lord Alaric of the Kelpies. The Kelpie Lord was in his human form, tall and pale, with long hair so dark a black that it seemed to have greenish-blue highlights where the light glinted off of it. A gold circlet rested about his brow, an emerald glittering at its fore. His eyes were dark, as deep as the forbidding marshy pools where his people made their homes. His nose was arched, his cheekbones thin and slanted, his mouth twisted in a mocking sneer. If you looked closely, a lock of seaweed dangled at the back of his head, intertwined with his dark hair, the only clue as to his true form.

Alaric stepped to Jareth's side as his loud inquiry attracted the attention of the other lords and ladies in the room, focusing the spotlight on their conversation. "We should all like to know," the Lord added, indicating the rest of the royalty and servants. He cocked his head, malice glittering deep in his eyes.

"That is none of your concern," Jareth snarled, anger flaring up. Adie was caught in the crossfire, too terrified to move away. Jareth ignored her – she wasn't part of this.

Alaric smiled – a smile that Jareth didn't trust. "Indeed. Well, perhaps you felt he wasn't fit to come tonight. What with him being blinded and all."

Astonished silence greeted the Kelpie Lord's words. Adie gasped. "Blinded!" she exclaimed in genuine anguish, staring first at Alaric in horror, then at Jareth in a silent plea for him to deny it. It pained Jareth to see the agony in her gaze: Adie was a simple girl, with no subtleties or pretense within her, who felt emotions rather more strongly – and oftentimes painfully – than most. She was like a child that way, and that was why Jareth (and Darius) appreciated her – she reminded them of the children they so often entertained. Jareth, contrary to popular belief, was in possession of a heart, and truly adored children. It was a requirement when you were Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth, really. And Adie was so like a child sometimes, innocent and guileless.

Jareth pinned Alaric with his coldest glare, his mismatched eyes blazing. "And who, precisely, led you to believe that?" he hissed menacingly.

Alaric laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Oh, no one _led _me to believe it. I have my sources, King Jareth, and they _told_ me in _absolute certainty_ – the brave, noble Darius is blind. By a rouge rover, if I recall the report correctly."

Murmurings sprung up all around them, surrounding Jareth on all sides – some faces shocked, some sad, some calculating, a few worried. Tears welled up in Adie's eyes, though she bit her lip to keep them from falling, a fact that did not escape Jareth's attention. Yes, she truly was like a child, though he knew her grief was genuine. She was a good friend of Darius.

Mentally, though, Jareth was swearing a blue streak into the wallpaper. Damn Alaric … now there was no way to accuse him. The Kelpie Lord had deftly deflected all blame from himself with his mention of a rogue rover. Rovers were magical beings that did not make their home in any one place, nor ally themselves with any one court. Robin Goodfellow – better known as Puck – was one such rover. But 'rogue' rovers were wanderers that went about striking out at random kingdoms, with the intent to do harm. No one knew their intentions or motivations – even mortals knew of them, as testified by their popular children's game "Red Rover". Jareth could not now accuse Alaric's court, for if it _was_ a rogue kelpie, then it was no concern of the Kelpie Lord, and to accuse him would be a horrendous insult. Damn him, he danced upon a web of lies and intrigue woven so tightly that not even Jareth, master of mistruths and wordplay, could not pick his way through it. The Goblin King wished viciously that someday Alaric's own web would trip him up and ensnare him, though he knew that the damn Kelpie Lord knew his own web as well as Jareth himself knew his Labyrinth.

"So. The great Darius is blind." The loud, brash voice belonged to none other than young Prince Gwydion, son of Queen Titania, queen of the Faeries – not the annoying, biting fairies; the strange, interfering, yet remote beings incapable of, among other things, love and kindness. It was said, in ancient legend, that all the Fae, Sidhe, and Elves were descended from these unique creatures. Queen Titania was head of the Seelie Court, as well.

Gwydion stared directly at Jareth, his gaze arrogant and self-assured, an expression Jareth himself often used, though not with this degree of rudeness. "Such a pity. The brave warrior, now a cripple." The last word was spat like an insult at the Goblin King, who drew himself up to his full height and power, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Little princeling, watch your tongue, lest you find yourself without it," Jareth hissed, a slight wind kicking up in his anger. Gwydion appeared startled at the open threat, but when no one backed the prince up, he subsided, cowed but by no means defeated, if the sullen glower was anything to go by.

"Yes!" Sir Didymus cried suddenly, brandishing his sword at the prince in a righteous frenzy. "You, sir, are impertinent! And Sir Darius is by no means a 'cripple'! I demand the right of battle with this brash youth!" He yipped and barked at Gwydion menacingly, his bushy tail flying this way and that.

"Calm yourself, Sir Didymus," Jareth commanded, wrapping his cloak about himself. "Come, Jetsam, knight – we are leaving."

"As are we," Queen Titania added, drawing her son along with her, no doubt about to give him a sound tongue-lashing. Other nobles nodded and began to leave as well, the party atmosphere ruined by the sudden news and ensuing dispute.

"Adie!" Queen Didrika called sharply from across the room. "Adie, come here this instant!"

Adie jumped, then bowed and murmured a hasty farewell to the Goblin King before racing off, quickly vanishing into the growing crowd. Jareth nodded to her, then turned to leave, conjuring a crystal as Sir Didymus and Jetsam approached.

"Home," he snapped, tossing the crystal into the air and transporting them to the Goblin Castle. They arrived in the throne room, which was blissfully empty of goblins, all of them herded elsewhere for the night. Jareth sank into his throne, waving a dismissal to Sir Didymus and Jetsam. The pair exchanged worried glances before leaving, glancing backwards every now and then to their discouraged king.

Jareth buried his face in his hands and groaned. Terrific. The absolute worst possible thing that could have happened … had happened. Alaric, of all people, had announced to the entire ruling nobility and their gossipy servants that Darius, right-hand-man of the Goblin Kingdom, was now blind. And soon, word would get around that his Labyrinth had finally been beaten – by a mortal girl, no less. Things could not get any worse than this.

Out of habit, he conjured a crystal to watch over his kingdom and take his mind off of the night's fiasco. He found the goblins spread out across the Great Goblin Hall, snoring loudly. In the kitchen he found organized, grandmotherly Cook, fixing some hot chocolate for Darius, who was reclining in one of the kitchen's few chairs, both of them speculating on how the Council Meeting would turn out. Jareth was strongly tempted to join them, to be surrounded by the warm, homey smells of the kitchen, to be mother-henned by Cook and hash things out with Darius, to have a cup of hot chocolate and try to forget the night's catastrophe. Darius and Cook were the only two people with whom Jareth felt no need to uphold the 'haughty, regal Goblin King' charade. Cook was like a bossy great-aunt, no real direct relation to him but one who insisted upon mother-henning him and Darius at all times, something that could be perversely comforting, as was her late-night hot chocolate and peach cobbler.

He decided to do just one more thing before joining the only two people he could truly call 'friends'. He redirected the crystal to show Sarah.

She was sitting on her bed with a pencil in hand and a sketchbook on her lap, sketching with long, broad strokes. He watched as the picture slowly took form under her hand – the Wise Man and his Bird Hat, from the hedge maze! He was surprised that she was drawing things from her time in the Labyrinth; but then, she had gone her whole life dreaming of a place like it – she wasn't about to forget it just because of …

He halted the thought. He knew what was coming next –'_because of him_.' Because of his interference, his tricks and traps and dangers, because of his threats. Because she had seen him as a villain and nothing more.

He scowled and hurled the crystal at the floor, whereupon it shattered satisfyingly into multicolored bursts of light. That done, he snapped his fingers and transported himself into the kitchen without so much as a by-your-leave.

Cook looked up at the Goblin King's sudden appearance, Darius grinning as the familiar clicking of Jareth's boots reached his large ears. Cook silently handed the scowling Goblin King a mug of hot chocolate. Jareth stared at it for a moment before grudgingly accepting.

"Sooo…" Darius prompted after a moment of silence in which Jareth sipped from his steaming mug; "How did it go?"

"I just want to forget it at the moment," Jareth grumbled, resting his chin on his hand as he swirled the foam around in his cup with a spoon.

Cook tsk-tsked him, shaking her head. She was a goblin, naturally – one with a talent for cooking peach cobbler. She was a very organized sort of person, keeping the castle neater than it might have been if two bachelors and a certain goblin horde had been left to their own devices. "It'll just plague you 'till you tell us – and if it doesn't, we will," she half-admonished, half-threatened him.

Jareth only blinked, too tired to retort. Cook noticed this, and subsided slightly. "My crisp is nearly done," she said in her gruff, direct manner, turning to face the stove once more. Darius chuckled fondly before returning his attention to his downcast friend.

"Well?" he finally queried, drawing a questioning look from Jareth. Continuing, he gestured dramatically; "Was it horrid? Was it a debacle? Was it disastrous? Was it the end of the world as we know it, and we should now love one another like there's no dish soap left in the world?"

Jareth fought, and lost, to keep the smile from spreading across his face. Though Darius couldn't possibly know, he heard Jareth chuckle, and knew things were well on their way to being mended. "Come on," he coaxed. "It can't be as bad as all _that_, else I shall go and proclaim my undying love to the kettle whilst I still draw breath. I've always wanted to do that, really, and the end of the world isn't going to take that chance away from me."

Jareth shook his head, laughing at his friend's absurdity as he pushed the mug of hot chocolate away from himself. "No, not as bad as all that," he admitted, leaning back into his wooden chair. "But bad enough."

Darius cocked his head, sightless eyes fixed slightly above Jareth's head. "Well, then. Let's hear it."

Jareth sighed. "Well, Alaric announced to the Courts at large – in the middle of the ball, no less – that you've been blinded, and then pointed the blame at a rogue rover. So now I am unable to accuse him … and the whole bloody _world_ thinks you're a bloody _cripple_ because I didn't bring you!" His voice steadily rose until he was nearly shouting by the end. "Titania is hungry for power, as always, and her brash son is still a foul-mouthed little horror, and it seems even Queen Didrika is stirring resentment in her subjects against me! Little Adie, the one who likes to speak with you, she could hardly look me in the eye for fear of me! And soon, everyone will also know that my Labyrinth has been defeated – _by a mortal girl_, a child no less! Pray tell, Darius, what part of that _isn't_ disastrous!"

Darius calmly waited until Jareth had finished, then frowned slightly in thought. "Hmm. Well, we can expect trouble from the Seelie Court, then … but if we remain alert we should be alright for a while, they like to convince people to relinquish their power of their own will, and dislike forward confrontations. And Alaric will guarantee the presence of the Unseelie Court as well … But what incentive Queen Didrika could have against you, I don't know. The Pixies and the Goblins have always been on pleasant terms. Perhaps Adie heard some horror stories from another kingdom, or perhaps Puck has been up to his usual mischief again."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Jareth sighed, rubbing his mismatched eyes with his hands. "We don't know. We just don't know."

Cook chose this moment to interrupt, placing her steaming hot apple crisp onto the table while stating in her gruff, matter-of-fact way, "Well, _saying_ you don't know isn't likely to do you much good, Highness. Might as well stop worrying about it, get some rest, and think it over in the morning."

Darius nodded in agreement, a playful grin lighting his face as he added, "After all, if worst comes to worst, you can always dump the lot of them in the Labyrinth. That'll sort them out soon enough."

Jareth gave a short, barking laugh, shaking his head as he helped himself to a hot piece of crisp. "Yes, there's always that," he agreed, blowing on the crisp before taking a large bite. Swallowing, he spoke to Cook; "Delicious, as always."

Cook gave him a quick, tolerant grin before sweeping away the crisp, proclaiming, "Bed, now! The both of you!"

"But I didn't get any crisp!" Darius protested, looking in Cook's direction imploringly.

"No!" she snapped, slapping his hand, which was reaching for the crisp. "I wasn't even going to let his Highness have any, but he stole some. Now, bed! Go! Shoo!"

Half-heartedly protesting, the weary pair were shooed from the kitchen to make their way to their rooms. Pausing in front of Darius' doorway, they exchanged tired goodnights. Jareth then entered his own bedchambers and flopped unceremoniously onto his large canopy bed. Without bothering to remove his formal clothes, only pausing long enough to cast away his cape, Jareth fell back and slept.

The next morning, the whole castle was awakened by a loud shout of "_Daaariiuuuss_!" as the Goblin King awoke to find his entire room remodeled in various, eye-smarting shades of pink. Loud crashes resounded throughout the castle for some time afterwards, and, later, if anyone ever inquired as to the large amount of green cheese playing charades in the storage rooms within the castle, they were met only with a shrug and a knowing smile.

And so, life continued at its usual pace in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

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A/N: So ... how is it? Bad? Good? Stupendous? Horrendous? I can look up more words in my thesaurus later ...

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, the holidays have finally slacked off a bit, and I was able to write some more - and boy, did I write! 12 whole pages, people! Hope you're happy! Here, we are reverting to Sarah's point of view - skipping a couple years, of course. Things are going to start _happening_ ... somewhat _quickly_. When the Fae want something, they don't waste time or give their victims time to think things over. They just _happen_. (That, by the way, is for anyone who wishes to complain that things are happening too fast.)

The song segment at the end is "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet. Please enjoy, and Merry Christmas/Happy Hannukah/Merry-whatever-other-winter-solstice-holiday-you-peeps-celebrate!

* * *

Sarah sighed contentedly as she made herself comfortable on the sun-warmed bench, pulling her autumn jacket closer about herself. It was unseasonably warm for the first day of December; warm enough for her to justify going to the park and sketching, as she was wont to do in the warmer weather of spring and summer. This would probably be the last time she would be able to do this before winter finally set in.

She wasn't looking forwards to being cooped up in the house all winter with her stepmother, unfortunately. She had the feeling that Karen had started out as a really decent person, and if fate had left them alone, she would have really liked her. But her father had died of cancer a year after her Labyrinth adventure, leaving behind a devastated and broken family. Karen did the best she could, but the strain was clearly getting to her, and Sarah felt that the older woman resented her step-daughter more and more. And lately, that resentment seemed to be spreading to Toby. Sarah was practically raising the kid on her own now, ever since Karen had started drinking.

Sarah understood that her step-mother was under a lot of stress, and worked hard to make ends meet; but it didn't justify excessive alcohol, in Sarah's opinion, as the young woman worked hard as well. Sarah had postponed college, deciding instead to stay at home to help Karen take care of things. She worked part-time at a deli shop, and made extra money on the side with her many drawings, which she sold for children's fantasy books.

She took a slow, deep breath, savoring the crisp wintry scent of the air before setting her pencil to paper. With eyes half-closed, she began to draw.

When she was drawing, it was like she was in a half-trance until she finished; and it always turned out to be creatures and scenes from the Labyrinth. Sometimes it was familiar faces – Sir Didymus, Ludo, Hoggle, the Wise Man, even the Goblin King – and other times, it was unfamiliar but equally fantastic creatures that leapt from her mind to the paper, beings and places she had never seen before but was certain that they, too, were a part of the Labyrinth.

The Labyrinth had changed her life. She was more sure of herself now, but also more aware of others, and that the world that existed outside of her head could be just as pleasant, exciting, and fulfilling as the fantasy realms she had lived in before. She had, in essence, grown up. And yet, in some ways, she was closer to the fantastic and magical than ever before. She would never forget her time in the Labyrinth, over three years ago now. A month before her sixteenth birthday … her last night as a self-absorbed, conceited, whiny teenager who clung to toys and fantasies while shunning her life and family. She was now nineteen years old, and far from the spoiled child she had been, though the stubborn, fiery streak was far from faded.

Finished, she opened her eyes all the way to gaze upon her latest work. It was a playful sketch, full of motion. The being it portrayed looked like a queer mix between human and feline, with long hair and feathers besides. He crouched on the paper, head cocked playfully to one side, tail lashing behind his legs as a mischievous grin added an extra sparkle to his light-colored eyes. A strange scar ran around his eyes, but it wasn't very noticeable – maybe it was just a smudge from the pencil. His entire stance was impishly playful, the long canines revealed in his grin adding vigor to the portrait.

"Well, hello to you, too," she said to her newest creation, wondering where he'd come from. He was the most detailed work she'd done in a while, and she'd never seen him before – either on a sketchpad or in the Labyrinth, though … perhaps … in her dreams …

She finally shrugged and tucked her sketchpad and pencils into her knapsack before setting off towards her house. Toby would be home soon, and she didn't like leaving him alone with Karen much lately. Karen would be home because she had a day off from her first job as a waitress at Carlotti's, a small Italian restaurant, and wouldn't be needed at the Laundromat for her second job until five in the evening. What with the way things were at the moment, she was likely to be drinking, and Sarah didn't think that a five-year-old should be left alone with that.

A cold wind sent sudden shivers down her back, numbing her ears as she hastily pulled up the hood of her coat. A sudden movement in the corner of her eye brought her head swinging about.

She froze. There, in front of her, was the most gorgeous person she had ever seen. He was tall and beautiful and golden, with a fair complexion and wavy hair that glinted like sunlight. His eyes were a piercing blue, seeming to cut down to her very soul. His face was kind and gentle, was the embodiment of everything good and benign. He possessed an almost ethereal beauty that stopped her in her tracks and captivated her immediately.

He smiled as he saw her halt, a slow, golden smile that made Sarah's legs go weak. She watched, unable to take her eyes away, as he strode softly towards her, stopping about five feet away. She wished he'd come closer.

"Hello, Sarah," he said in a voice that made her shiver. A small warning bell went off in her mind, and she frowned slightly in puzzlement as she asked, "How … do you know my name?"

"I've heard of you," he replied, his smile growing warmer. Her heart pounded, and any other thoughts of the suspicious sort flew right out of her head.

"Oh," she replied faintly, clutching her book-bag tightly. "I … oh."

"You're a very special girl … did you know that?" he asked, taking a step closer. She shook her head mutely, unable to speak.

"Yes," he continued in a low murmur. "A very, very special girl, to be able to defeat the Labyrinth."

A small warning bell jangled again at the very back of her mind. How did he know about the Labyrinth …? But he smiled dazzlingly at her, and the brief, troubled thoughts once more flew from her mind.

"I was wondering, Sarah," he began slowly, Sarah hanging on to his every word; "I have a slight problem … and you might be able to fix it, or so I'm told. You're certainly clever; to have beaten the Labyrinth … couldn't you tell me how you did it?"

Sarah, by this time, would have jumped off a cliff for this beautiful stranger if he had asked it of her. She readily took a breath, about to explain how she'd beaten the Labyrinth with her friends.

"Prince Gwydion!" A sharp, sudden cry broke her concentration, and the golden stranger's. A young girl with flyaway tawny-brown hair, slanted cheekbones and dark, almond eyes stood several paces away, staring at the golden man with shock and a bit of panic.

"Why, Lady Annora," Gwydion began smoothly, beginning to walk towards the girl. "What a pleasant surprise-"

"What are you doing here!" she cut him off, eyes widening as she spotted Sarah behind him. Sarah stared at her – was she crazy? Why was she getting angry at this completely benevolent young man?

Staring right back at Sarah, the young girl continued, "What have you done to her? She's completely mesmerized! You release her, right now! It's forbidden to interfere with mortal's lives unless they interfere first!"

"Ah," Gwydion held up a slender, perfect finger; "but this is the mysterious and long-hidden mortal who defeated the Goblin King, my dear; I have every right to her."

"You haven't!" she retorted sharply. "If anything has a right to her, it's the Labyrinth! Now release her, or I'll call upon my own Queen!"

Gwydion sighed and waved a hand in Sarah's direction. "There. Happy now?"

Sarah blinked in sudden shock and horror. The strange man – Gwydion – suddenly didn't seem quite so golden, or beautiful. The spell, glamour, whatever it was, broke with the wave of Gwydion's hand. His face became narrow and slightly unpleasant in expression, his hair thinning and becoming lighter than the original rich gold. She could suddenly see the hardness in his blue-eyed gaze, the distant, merciless, remote air about him. It reminded her chillingly of her first impression of Jareth, though this man seemed to be … _lacking_ something that gave Jareth a slight sense of morals, or emotions, perhaps. Yes, something vital was missing from this young man, and that frightened her.

She tensed, ready to move; whether to flee or attack, however, she didn't know.

Meanwhile, the strange girl who had rescued her frowned at Gwydion, unsatisfied. "You go back to your own realm, Prince Gwydion," she said slowly and clearly, a slight breeze making her bangs fly about her face. "Queen Didrika has her eye on you."

Gwydion snorted derisively. "If you are all she sends after me, I have naught to worry," he scoffed, and suddenly left. He didn't vanish, exactly, or disappear; he just left, by way of a door Sarah couldn't see. But the girl apparently could, and she nodded briefly before turning to Sarah.

"Are you all right?" she asked carefully, stepping forwards only to halt as Sarah backed away quickly, clutching her bag as if it were an anchor.

Sarah took a few, gulping breaths, her eyes flicking back to where Gwydion had been only moments before. "I … I'm not sure," she finally replied, shuddering as she remembered how completely she'd been mesmerized. It frightened her just to think about it.

"Do you know who he was?" the girl asked cautiously, keeping her eyes on Sarah's face.

Sarah shook her head in an emphatic 'no'. "No. No, I don't. He reminded me of-" She cut herself off abruptly as it occurred to her she didn't know who _this _person was, either. "Who are _you_, anyway?"

The girl sketched a brief bow. "I am Annora, handmaiden and warrior of Queen Didrika, ruler of the Pictsie Kingdom. I came because Prince Gwydion, son of Queen Titania, ruler of the Faerie Kingdom and head of the Seelie Court, was mesmerizing you with intent to harm both you and another kingdom. To interfere with the affairs of mortals unless called upon is forbidden, so I took action against it."

Sarah blinked at the long list of names and kingdoms before shaking her head incredulously. "No. No, I – oh, for Pete's sake, I _beat_ the damn Labyrinth!" she suddenly burst out. "I _beat_ it, and I beat the Goblin King, and it's done with, it's _over_! You're supposed to leave me _alone_ now! I'm _done_ with it, I don't _want_ faeries and elves and goblins popping up in the park and mesmerizing me, I want it _done_, I want it -"

She felt her breath starting to catch, and recognized the beginnings of a panic attack – something she had become all too familiar with in the past years after her father's death. She had had professional help back when they could still afford it, and hadn't actually had an attack in a while … but this whole, overwhelming _thing _was setting it off again. She focused on taking deep, steadying breaths, ignoring Annora's sudden, worried look. _Calm down … calm down … you can_not_ have an attack now …deep breaths … deep breaths …_

Finally, the edges of the panic faded, and she managed to regain control of herself. She took a few carefully deep breaths – better safe than sorry, after all – before turning back to Annora. "Well?" she asked tightly after a moment. "I beat it, didn't I? What -" she gestured expansively with her hands; "is all this about? What did I say wrong _this_ time?" She cut herself off before she could start panicking again. She had beaten the Labyrinth, hadn't she? She hadn't called on _anything_. But a Faerie prince was seducing her 'with intent to harm', and this pixie girl, Annora, was here acting as if it was all normal, and … and …

Annora gazed intensely at her; the direct, piercing gaze sent chills down Sarah's spine. The stare reminded her that Annora was not human, nor anything resembling it; she was something totally alien. The pixie blinked her unreadable almond eyes and pursed her lips, obviously thinking.

"Well, it's really _because_ you defeated the Goblin King that the other kingdoms are taking an interest in you," Annora finally replied. "You defeated the Labyrinth. You. No one has ever been able to do it before. And you're just a mortal. Obviously exceptional, of course. Many … many kingdoms would love to defeat the King of Goblins, and they see you as their means of success. You have already entered our realms before … and so they can loosely claim that they have a right to interfere – to approach you in the mortal realms and use any means at their disposal to get you to go with them and help them topple the Labyrinth."

Sarah shook her head in insistent denial, clenching her fists in frustration. "Why? I mean -" she hastily amended as she saw Annora getting ready to repeat herself; "why _now_? It's been over three years … why now, all of a sudden?"

Annora blinked again, her dark eyes seeming blank and alien, indecipherable. Sarah had no idea what was going through the pixie's mind. "No one knew who you were. No one could find you. The protections surrounding you were formidable, but obviously someone has broken them."

"Protections?" Sarah repeated incredulously.

"Yes. Most likely set in place by the Goblin King, in order to protect his realm." Annora cocked her head, scrutinizing Sarah. "Or perhaps to protect you. I wouldn't know."

"The Goblin King?" the young woman replied numbly, feeling like a broken record.

Now, Annora seemed slightly annoyed with the seeming idiocy of the mortal in front of her. "Yes," she said, faintly peeved. "That is what I said." Sarah picked up on the unsaid '_Are you deaf?'_ and, wisely, decided not to comment.

Annora cocked a slender eyebrow at Sarah. "Be wary. When the Fae kingdoms decide they are interested in something, they do not rest until they have it. You, and your family, are all fair game to them. Keep your family close, and your friends closer, Sarah Williams. Be on your guard."

With that, the pixie bowed gracefully and faded gently out of existence. Sarah shivered. The sheer alien nature of the Fae creature had unnerved her greatly, and her words even more so.

She was brought back to reality quite suddenly when her wristwatch's alarm went off. "_Dee-de-dee-de-dee-de-dee,_" the watch trilled, playing to the tune of "Mickey Mouse Club March". Startled, she fumbled with her bag for a moment before managing to reach her wrist and turn the alarm off.

"Damnit!" she cried as she looked at the time and remembered why she'd set off that alarm. "I'm late again!" She took off running, throwing her backpack around her shoulders as she did so.

Dead grass coated with frost crackled beneath her boots as she fairly flew over the ground of the park, racing across several streets without so much as a 'look-both-ways'. No one called out to her – she didn't really know anyone very well, and anyone she might ever have considered a friend had moved to college last year, with the exception of her co-worker, Tina. The only reason she stayed around, really, was helping to support Karen and her little brother – a task that was becoming harder and harder, both because of the ever-mounting stack of bills and Karen's building enmity towards both her stepdaughter and son.

_Whoosh!_ – dead leaves, delicately laced in frost, flew as she cleared several backyard fences, resorting to seldom-used shortcuts in order to get home faster. Sarah focused her mind solely upon the rhythmic pumping of her legs, and of her deep, carefully regulated breaths, doing her level best to shove all thoughts of faeries and goblins out of her mind.

She cursed under her breath as she came into sight of her house – the bus had passed by several minutes ago, judging by its current position further up the road. That meant Toby was home with Karen, at least long enough for something to …

She cut the thought off and smothered it, refusing to think like that. Karen wouldn't do _anything_ to her son. No matter how far she'd fallen from her former self … no matter how stressed and pressured and resentful she had become … she would _never_ do _anything_ to hurt Toby in any way. _Never_.

She leapt onto the porch and threw the screen door and main door open in one swift motion, not even stopping to kick off her boots onto the mat just inside the hallway as she hurried inside. "I'm home!" she called loudly, praying harder than she could ever remember praying … for what, she wasn't precisely sure.

"Sarah!" came a delighted shout from the kitchen. Sarah let loose a huge sigh of relief, grinning goofily to herself as headed into the warm, yellow-tiled kitchen.

Toby sat at the table – slightly wobbly thanks to a wedge of wood forced underneath one of the broken legs – his knapsack beside him on the floor, his homework spread out in front of him. He grinned delightedly as his elder sister entered the room, leaping off the hard chair to give her a flying tackle that ended in a hug around her knees. "SarahSarahSarahSarah!" he yelled, nearly knocking her off her feet.

"Sarah," came another voice, this one tight and brittle. Sarah looked upwards to see her stepmother standing by the sink of the kitchen. Karen's face was tight and unreadable, her mouth surrounded by worry lines. The woman, once so pretty and confident, was a shadow of her former self, worn and haggard. Her eyes glinted with something dangerous as they rested upon her stepdaughter and son.

"Hello, Karen," Sarah replied, gently extricating herself from her baby brother.

"You're late." Karen's face was unreadable, but her voice was tense.

"I'm sorry," Sarah replied, suppressing a shiver at the thought of what had delayed her. "I … ran into some difficulties. It won't happen-"

"Oh, it's always some difficulty!" Karen snapped, cutting her off. "Why can't you ever just be _on time_?"

Sarah didn't flinch, though she did glance worriedly at Toby before bending down and whispering to him, "Mommy and I have to talk, Tobes. Can you wait upstairs?"

"Can I wait in your room?" the five-year-old asked eagerly. Toby loved Sarah's room, which was still full of mementos of her childhood, various drawings that she couldn't bear to sell plastered all over the walls.

"Sure," she murmured, waiting until he had raced up the stairs to the second floor and heard the door to her room open before standing and returning Karen's gaze.

"We need to talk about Toby," Karen said after a moment of this, straightening and walking towards the center of the kitchen. Sarah's eyes flickered briefly towards the bottle in Karen's hands – some kind of alcohol – before returning to her stepmother's face. Toby didn't deserve this – a father he could barely remember, a mother who was falling apart by the seams, and an older sister who couldn't always keep her grip on reality.

"What about Toby?" Sarah finally questioned, seating herself at the table, all sensors on red alert. Karen hesitated a moment before sliding into a seat across from the nineteen-year-old.

"His kindergarten teacher – Ms. Pam – called again today," Karen began, her voice strained.

"Again?" Sarah asked, surprised in spite of herself. Karen glared at her but continued:

"She thinks that Toby has a learning disorder, and should be put in a class for children with special education needs."

"_What_?" Sarah yelled, eyes widening, suddenly furious. "But – but Toby isn't _like_ that!"

"He doesn't pay attention, ever, he's doing poorly in everything, he can't even tie his own _shoes_, and he's not keeping up with the class _at all_," Karen grated, her obvious stress showing in her face and voice. "Frankly, Sarah, I don't see any other choice at the moment-"

"_Toby is _not_ retarded!_" Sarah shouted, cutting her stepmother off. She glared at Karen angrily. "He's just _bored_, and putting him in a special ed. class will make it _worse_! You _can't_ be thinking about-"

"I can put him where I want! He is _my_ son, Sarah Williams!" Karen suddenly exploded, standing up abruptly and clenching her fists.

Sarah pursed her lips and frowned, but halted her tirade. She'd continue this battle later – with Ms. Pam.

"And there's more," Karen continued, calming down slightly. "Apparently, Toby has been … telling tales. About a place full of mazes. And monsters. He's been drawing them, and insists they are real! He won't listen to anything the teacher says!" She thrust a handful of childish drawings at Sarah like they were weapons.

Sarah took the pictures and gently flipped through them. Scrawled childishly with bright Crayola crayons were, unmistakably, goblins – big-nosed, floppy-eared goblins, with horns and hair and beards and helmets – strange, but not scary; funny, really.

"Goblins," she murmured after a moment.

"What?" Karen asked sharply, peering at her dangerously.

"They're goblins," she repeated, not raising her voice. "Not monsters – goblins."

Karen slammed her bottle onto the table. "This is _exactly_ what I mean!" she cried angrily. "Toby has to keep his head out of the clouds – he's _failing kindergarten_ – and you just keep encouraging him, with your pictures and crazy stories! Why can't you accept that this is _real life, _and you're stuck with it!" She took a deep breath, and then shook her head. "No, I don't care what you do, what you think … but why can't you leave Toby out of it? It's not bad enough that you can't keep your own feet planted on the ground, oh no, you have to keep _Toby_ isolated, too!"

"Karen," Sarah began, alarmed, but Karen plowed on heedlessly, her face ruddy with rage and drink.

"I've about _had_ it with the both of you! I hear you two, all the time, at night, in the evenings and mornings and afternoons, whispering and telling stories about … about _horrible_ things, like monsters and wizards and magic and babies stolen away and Goblin Kings and, and … Sarah, it's nonsense like _that_ that keeps him preoccupied, that keeps him cut off from the _rest_ of the world!"

Sarah did her best not to flinch at the unwelcome reminder that what Karen deemed nonsense was all too real – and all too dangerous. Focusing on ordinary, everyday worries was apparently not going to drive thoughts of Gwydion and Annora from her mind.

"Karen, they're just stories," she tried again, desperate to make her stepmother see reason.

"Not to him, they aren't!" Karen exploded hoarsely. "And definitely not to you! I don't know my own _son_ anymore! Most of the time, I don't even _want_ to!"

Sarah stood up suddenly, violently, her face hard. She leaned towards her step-mother and hissed dangerously, coldly; "Take that back. You _didn't mean that_."

Karen stared at Sarah – straight into the young woman's cold hazel eyes – and laughed bitterly, a chilling, half-crazy laugh from a woman who's given up on everything and just wants to lose it all. A violently unnerving sound that had Sarah racing upstairs, away from the kitchen, away from Karen, in the space of about five seconds.

Sarah pounded up the stairs and, throwing the door to her room, hurried inside and then shut the door firmly, as if to block out the horrible conversation. She hadn't believed … hadn't even _suspected_, not really, that it had become this bad …

"Sarah?" a small voice queried. She turned to see Toby curled up on her bed, Lancelot the teddy bear held tight in his arms.

_He must have heard. He _had_ to have heard._ Sarah attempted a smile and sat down beside him. "Hey, Toby," she said, making an effort to hold her voice steady. "What's happenin'?"

He didn't lift his head. "Mommy doesn't care anymore, does she?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, Toby," Sarah breathed, then reached out and brought him onto her lap, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, kiddo. Karen's just … not having a very good week. It'll be all right."

"Don't lie," he sniffled, burying his face in her shoulder, kicking her slightly with his sneakered feet. "Mommy doesn't love us anymore."

"I'm not lying," Sarah insisted, making her voice stronger. She had to make him believe that … had to make _herself_ believe that.

Toby sighed. After about five minutes of this cuddling, he pulled away and asked hopefully, "Can I look at your storybooks?"

"Sure, kiddo," she laughed as he leapt eagerly off of her lap. Every time she sold pictures for children's books, she got sent a free copy. She now had a veritable library of children's books, filled with scenes from the Labyrinth.

After digging through the giant pile, he emerged with three different books, each filled with misplaced illustrations of the Labyrinth. "Found 'em!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Sarah smiled down at him, and then stood up with a sigh. "I've got some things I need to do," she told him. "Can you take those books and camp out in your room for a while?"

"Sure!" he agreed, grabbing his handful of colorful storybooks and trotting out the door. Sarah watched until he was in his room, and then gently shut the door.

She turned to face her vanity, staring intently into her mirror-image's eyes. "Hoggle," she called out quietly. "Ludo? Sir Didymus? I need you. Now."

"What is amiss, my lady?" a familiar voice queried from behind her. She turned to see her friends gathered around her bed, looking at her attentively.

She hesitated a moment before the weight of everything that had happened that day caught up to her. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" she cried suddenly, throwing herself into Ludo's giant arms and sobbing.

"Sawah?" the gentle giant queried worriedly. Behind her she heard Hoggle and Sir Didymus asking her what was wrong, did someone hurt her?

"I'm alright," she finally told them, sitting up and wiping the tears away from her face. "It's just … it's been a wretched day."

"If there's anything we can do to help …" Hoggle began.

"Yes, milady, anything!" Sir Didymus added loyally, peering concernedly into her face.

Sarah took a few deep breaths before gathering herself and asking, in her steadiest voice: "What do you know about a … a Fae, called Gwydion?"

It was like she dropped a bomb in the room. Hoggle started, eyes huge, while Sir Didymus froze, his mouth hanging open.

After a moment, Hoggle managed to collect himself enough to ask, "And where did you meet _him_, Sarah?" His tone was frightened and slightly disbelieving, which made Sarah even more nervous than she had been.

"In the park," she replied, crossing her legs atop her bedspread. "He mesmerized me."

"WHAAAT!" Hoggle roared, to her astonishment. "Where was Darius? I'm gonna _kill _that cat-hawk, don't think I _won't_!"

"Peace, friend Hoggle!" Sir Didymus yipped in distress, tugging on the irate dwarf's arm. "Sir Darius has been here for over a sevenday! He cannot watch my lady every moment!"

"Darius?" Sarah demanded. "Who's _Darius_?"

Hoggle froze and gulped, a look of ill-concealed guilt crossing his face. "Uh, no one, really, no one at all," he began nervously.

"Hoggle," she interrupted warningly.

Sir Didymus leaped to the gardener's rescue. "A friend, dear lady, sent to watch over you when it became known that the kingdoms had discovered you."

"Sent by _who_?" she said more than asked, slowly and deliberately.

"Well, uh, that is to say, my lady," Didymus stammered, but was interrupted by Ludo, who said, "Jaweth! Jaweth send _fwend_!"

"What's more important, Sarah," Hoggle quickly interjected before Sarah could explode in outrage at the mention of the Goblin King – who was interfering _again_! – "is that practically all the kingdoms are out to get you!"

"Yes! It is far too dangerous for you to remain here, my lady!" Sir Didymus agreed, waving his tail about in his agitation.

"Oh, and where else would I go?" she demanded, glaring at the fox knight. Her anger at Jareth for showing up in her life – even second-handedly – had not faded very much.

"Home," Ludo grunted from behind her. When she turned to look at him, he smiled at her, misunderstanding her incredulous look. "_Home_."

"Sir Ludo is right, my lady," Didymus said cautiously. "You would be safe in the Labyrinth …"

"'The Labyrinth' and 'safe' are not two things I would ever use in the same sentence," Sarah retorted, growing angrier and angrier despite her best efforts. "I'm _never_ going back there, do you hear me? _Never_!"

Her friends lowered their heads, downcast. "All right, Sarah," Hoggle mumbled. "Take care of yourself, though. If you ever need us … just call …"

"Wait – I'm sorry!" Sarah cried, but it was too late – they had already left.

"Oh, just _great_," she moaned, flopping face-down onto her comforter. Pulling her pillow firmly over her head, she tried to blot the rest of the world from existence while silent tears of rage, frustration, and perhaps a bit of fear, ran down her face. Outside, thunder cracked loudly, and it began to pour.

Sarah reached out blindly with one arm and groped for a moment before hitting the "on" switch for her radio. The end of a song floated gently to her ears, resonating and lingering a while before drifting away on the winds of music.

"_They can't tell me who to be,_

_Cuz I'm not what they see._

_Yeah, the world is still sleeping,_

_While I keep on dreaming for me._

_And their words are just whispers and lies,_

_That I'll never believe!"_

"_And I want a moment to be real,_

_Wanna touch things I don't feel,_

_Wanna hold on,_

_And feel I belong._

_And how can the world want me to change?_

_They're the ones that stay the same!_

_I'm the one now,_

_Cuz I'm still here!"_

Outside, thunder crashed and lightning lit up the skies, while Sarah Williams lay huddled in her bed, trying to deny the fact that her life was about to change forever - again.

"_I'm still here!_

_I'm still here!_

_I'm still here _…"

* * *

A/N: We'll be right back, after these messages ...

**Aurora Ranger:** Mmmm ... jelly and cream ... Yummy! Much more interesting than charades-playing green cheese. Thank you oh-so-much for your long reviews - like my chapters are to you, they are highly sustaining and muchly appreciated! I'm really glad you like my characters - life doesn't throw easily explainable people at _me_, so why should it throw them at _Jareth_?I'm so glad you're going to review alot, really truly honestly. Your reviews are absolutely _fantabulous_. Hope you liked Sarah's view of everything that's been dumped on her! (poor girl)

**Lonewolf-chica:** Nope, no sarcasm, too hard to pull off in writing/talking except in chapters. I really am thrilled! And all hail the Giant Fanfic Soup Bowl in the Sky! Chicken Soup for the Fanfic Lover's Soul ... sounds like something _I'd_ read ...

**Ally:** Yay! I'm so glad you like Darius and Cook! I worked really hard on Cook, isn't she great? (I'm ashamed to say I didn't work very hard on Darius at all - he came up to me at McDonalds, bought me a cheeseburger, dinged me with a straw and made me begin writing.) And, yes, Jareth is, at heart, a good guy ... sort of ... he just doesn't follow the same rules that most people operate on, and that can be confusing.

**Lake of Fire:** T. H. A. N. K. Y. O. U.

REVIEW! Or I shall boil you all in a chicken soup and give you to Cook to make souffles with! Or something like that, anyways ...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: BREAKING HEADLINES! HELL FROZEN OVER - SATAN REFUSING TO PAY EXORBITANT HEATING BILLS! In other news, reports from all over the world of flying porcine are rushing in ...

Yes! Yes! Yes! Finally, after over a **year** (ye gods, has it really been that long?), I AM UPDATING! Nice long chapter, and, I swear, I have been working on this wonderful story the _entire time_ I've been "away" - just not on this particular chapter. The plot line is now involved, extensive, and _muchly cool_, and they have a _history_ and I'm planning a _prequel _and I'm getting ahead of myself again ...

Reviews to my patient and lovely reviewers (_come back to meeeeee ..._) will be at the bottom, as will be a rather enticing contest-thing. Enjoy!

* * *

"Guh! Gack!" Sarah spluttered as she tried to shove the heavy weight that was her sheepdog, Merlin, off of her lap. Merlin remained firmly planted, intent upon thoroughly cleaning his mistress' face with his tongue, which was what had woken her in the first place.

"Merlin! Down!" Sarah finally managed to yell without getting doggy slobber in her mouth. The big sheepdog whined but hopped off the bed while the young woman wiped repeatedly at her drool-covered face. She glared at her pet, who simply panted happily at her, grinning a big, doggy grin.

However much she resented waking up covered in dog slobber, the sight of Merlin cheered Sarah considerably. Not only was the lovable sheepdog her best friend in the world, but he was also a continuing reminder that, no matter how bad things had gotten with Karen, her stepmother was still a decent person at heart. Merlin's shots and dog food placed a constant strain on their financial status, but Karen never complained or suggested that they give him away; in fact, in her own way, the older woman seemed very fond of the dog when he wasn't tracking mud all over her clean floors. Sarah was immensely grateful for that; if Merlin had had to leave, she didn't know what she would have done.

Merlin cocked his head and whined at her, his entire rear end wiggling with repressed energy. Sarah glanced at her clock, which read six-thirty, before flopping back onto her bed and groaning. "It's too _early_ for a walk, Merlin," she groused. Merlin whined again and woofed insistently at her, wiggling in place in an adamant attempt to express his urgency. Sarah grunted as she unwillingly hauled herself out of her nice, warm bed, shutting the door to her room before opening her closet and pulling out some clothes. Merlin yipped happily, dancing around Sarah's feet as she struggled to pull on her jeans without falling over.

She experienced a sudden thrill of uncertainty and apprehension as she picked up her dog's leash from where it hung on a hook beside her bedroom door. Going outside for a walk, this early, on a Saturday, when most people would be sleeping in … no one would notice if another Fae decided to attack her …

Merlin woofed, rearing up and placing his paws on her stomach. His eyes, peering out at her from underneath his shaggy bangs, said clearly, _I need a walk, _now

Sarah shook herself and opened her door, following Merlin as he thundered down the stairs to the hallway. Across the hall, she heard Karen shift in bed, moaning slightly in her sleep. She told herself, firmly, that she would be fine. She knew what to look out for, now. And, she laughed to herself as she struggled to hook the leash onto the antsy sheepdog's collar, Merlin would protect her from suspicious-looking squirrels to insurance salesmen. She knew this from long experience.

A sudden thought struck her as she laid her hand on the door handle, shrugging into a warm coat; a half-forgotten memory, buried beneath the haze of time, from a book she'd read long ago … Salt. Salt was used in protection circles against fairies … And iron! Fae couldn't stand the touch of iron. It burned their skin and nulled their magic.

Sarah didn't think that they had any iron in the house – she could ask Karen later, she supposed, though she'd have to come up with a decent excuse. But she _did_ know for a fact that they had salt, and in abundance. She trotted quickly into the kitchen and grabbed an unopened box of salt from the cupboard before returning to the hallway, where Merlin pranced about her feet, demanding to know why she was taking so long. Sarah picked up a knitted handbag and slipped the box of salt into it before grabbing Merlin's leash and heading outside.

The air was brisk and chill, Sarah's breaths puffing into little clouds in front of her. She was very glad of her coat, warm and thick against the wintry cold. She walked quickly, with long strides, Merlin trotting gaily beside her, his tongue lolling out to the side as he dashed off this way and that to investigate any new scents.

It was very difficult to hang on to her initial fears of attack when faced with the light grey pre-dawn, on her own street, in her home neighborhood, with Merlin at her side. All of a sudden, the concept of fairies and pixies popping up to kidnap her – or worse – seemed rather silly. She warned herself sternly to be on her guard, though she could feel herself relaxing more with each step she took. This was _her_ territory – deep down, she still felt like nothing could _truly_ touch her here, like children believe that "home" means "safety" in a game of tag; immunity, safety, security. Her home turf.

A sudden, uneasy thought penetrated her subconscious thoughts – _Jareth came here, not just here in the street, but _in your house_. He took Toby away, right in your own house._

_I called on him_, she reminded herself irritably, though the retort was half-hearted at best. After all these years, she still saw Jareth as the villain of her adventures in the Labyrinth, and unthinkingly blamed him for … well, everything, really.

She was jarred suddenly out of her thoughts when she nearly tripped over Merlin, who was standing rigidly in the middle of the sidewalk, his hackles rising as he began to growl low in his throat. "Merlin, what …" Her confused outburst faded away as she spotted what had put Merlin on his guard.

Up ahead, walking with easy, long-legged strides down the sidewalk towards them, was a tall stranger dressed in a long trenchcoat, a hat pulled down over his face. A long cane was held in one hand, lightly tapping the pavement as he walked. Sarah squinted – something about the figure seemed … off, somehow. She cocked her head and crossed her eyes momentarily, trying to catch whatever it was that was nagging her.

There! In the corner of her eye, a slight glimmer of otherworldly light bending gently around the stranger's form. In an eye-blink, however, it was gone, and Sarah had to wonder if it was a strange trick of the pre-dawn light. Nevertheless, she slipped one hand into her handbag and rested it on the reassuring box of salt, while tightening her grip on Merlin's leash.

She waited until the stranger was only a few yards away before calling out, "Who are you?"

The stranger halted and peered intently at her from underneath the hat. Just when Sarah was beginning to feel uneasy, the stranger spoke. "Sarah Williams?" The speaker had an easy, baritone voice with just a hint of a Scottish accent, decidedly male.

"How do you know my name?" Sarah replied, slowly and cautiously. The last time a stranger had known her name, she'd been mesmerized. She wasn't about to make that mistake again.

The stranger started to take a step closer, but halted immediately as the young woman whipped out the box of salt and pointed it in his direction. "Stay back!" she demanded. "I'm warning you!"

The stranger cocked his head. Sarah got the sudden impression that he was grinning in the shadows of that ridiculous hat. "All right," he said reassuringly, raising his hands in a gesture of goodwill. "I'll not come any closer. My name is Darius – Darius Stoneclaw, if you want the full title."

The name rang a bell of recognition in her mind – she suddenly remembered her friends telling her last night about someone named Darius, someone who was a 'friend' … but a friend of hers, or a friend of Jareth's? She wished she knew.

"Right," she said aloud. "Well, Mr. Stoneclaw, I must tell you that I've had quite enough of Fae trying to kidnap me and take advantage of me, so you can just turn around now and go your merry way far, far away from me."

"Hey, now!" Darius protested, lowering his hands to his sides once more, accent thickening. "I'm not here tae harm ye, lass! I've been yer bodyguard for o'er a week, now!"

"And a fine job you were doing yesterday, if you're telling the truth," she shot back angrily. "I have no reason – none at all – to trust you, Mr. Stoneclaw. So if you'll just leave, I'll be much obliged."

Darius sighed and glanced towards the sky, as if beseeching help from above, before returning his shadowed gaze to her. "Sarah," he said quite calmly and carefully, "I've no wish to harm you, mesmerize you, or 'take advantage' of you in any way. I was sent up here to guard you and make sure no harm came to you as soon as Jareth realized the protections he'd placed upon you were gone. Yesterday, I was reporting to Jareth an' got a bit tied up."

"So you _do_ work for the Goblin King," she spat, disgusted. "I want no part in his games, Stoneclaw, none at all."

"Look," Darius interjected, sounding frustrated, "I came here tae _apologize,_ all righ'? I never meant to let Gwydion get so close tae ye. I called Annora up tae look after ye while I was gone, and she tells me she was a wee bit late. So I came to say I'm _sorry_. I know ye want no more part in our world, but it's a bit late fer you to get out o' it."

Sarah stared at him for a moment, at a loss. The apology – and obviously he meant it – had thrown her for a serious loop. She'd never expected him to apologize for leaving her alone, if what he said was true and he was the one keeping her safe all this time. But if she accepted that he was on _her _side … he was working for _Jareth_! How could he _possibly_ be on _her_ side when he served the Goblin King?

Meanwhile, Darius had cocked his head and was waiting patiently for a reply. Because of the gradually lightening sky, Sarah could now see a vague outline of his face underneath the shadows of the large hat. His eyes, instead of peering directly at her face like she'd thought, were actually focused a bit above and beyond where she stood.

"I'm not sure I understand …" she began slowly. He made a questioning sort of noise that assured her she had his attention, but his eyes never drifted down to her face. Annoyed, she demanded, "Look, I don't know what you consider 'common courtesy' to be, but could you at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

He jerked a little bit, as if startled – then, against all odds, a broad grin swept across his dark, shadowed face. Sounding amused, he quickly exclaimed, "Oh, great Danaa, did that take me by surprise! Forgive me Sarah," he added, for she had made a greatly indignant sound, pulling a stiff Merlin against her leg; "it just ne'er occurred to me tha' no one had told ye … lass, I canna look at ye, I'm blind."

"Oh, God," Sarah gasped before clapping a hand over her mouth, horribly embarrassed. "Oh, my … I'm so sorry, I just, I didn't …"

He waved off her stuttered apologies with a wave of his hand and a friendly grin. "Tis alright, lass, you didn't know, is all."

"Still …" she managed, blushing furiously in embarrassment and shame. What did you say after snapping at a blind person because he didn't look at you? She had no idea; even the very thought mortified her. Casting about for something to say, she remembered what had been running through her mind prior to Darius' revelation. "So … you work for the Goblin King …" she said carefully, waiting for him to nod affirmatively before continuing; "But you're helping me. At least, you say you are. Ostensibly, this would make you on my side – but anyone who works for the Goblin King _cannot_ be on my side." She finished her sentence firmly, crossing her arms and waiting for his reaction.

He frowned, obviously puzzled. "Well … if you don't mind my askin', Sarah-" she noted vaguely that he pronounced her name by elongating the first syllable, not rolling the 'r' like Ja – like the Goblin King had; "-why, exactly, can I not be workin' for Jareth and still be on your side? Beg pardon an' all, but it doesn't seem like so much of a quandary t' me."

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, before remembering he couldn't see it and giving voice to her skepticism. "He's the _Goblin King_. I'm a _mortal_. _The_ mortal, in fact, who defeated him! I very much doubt he's taken kindly to me, even if it were possible for the King of Goblins to take kindly to _anything_!"

"Now what, exactly, do you mean by that?" Darius asked calmly – but it seemed to Sarah that the calm hid something rather more dangerous behind it.

Ignoring this sense – if she had faced down Goblin Kings, she could certainly face down Mr. Darius Stoneclaw – she continued stubbornly, "I mean he's the _Goblin_ _King_. He's cruel, wicked, merciless and heartless, he's-"

"The villain?" Darius interrupted. The sense of alien _other_ness that had overtaken her with Annora and Gwydion resurfaced, though not quite so intense now – and not quite so terrifying – as she realized that Darius himself had to be one of the Fae, or some other magical creature, if he served Jareth.

"Have you still not gotten past the game you played?" he asked her incredulously, surprise covering his dark face. "You haven't," he stated in frustration when she didn't answer. "Sarah, haven't you thought about what Jareth told you _at all_ in the last three years an' so? You _wanted_ an adventure; you _wanted _to be the heroine. A heroine needs a villain, so he took it upon himself to take th' role. But tha's all it was, a role t' play!"

"No, it wasn't!" Sarah snapped back, not wanting to listen to the words that sounded so very much like the guilty, nagging voice at the very back of her head. "He took things too far, he's never been anything but a villain all his life!"

"And ye've known him tha' long, have ye?" he demanded harshly. "Well, I suppose you, who knew him fer all o' thirteen hours an' wasna e'en _with_ him for a quarter o' tha', know him _sae much better_'n I, who's known him for _centuries_ by mortal ken! No, I canna _possibly_ know him better'n ye, Sarah, no' a chance in th' world!"

They both broke off and seethed at each other angrily for what seemed like hours. Merlin began whining after a few moments, however, upset because his mistress was so angry.

It was Darius who calmed down first, sighing deeply, all his anger and tension seeming to leave him along with the deep breath. "Sarah," he began gently, "I truly am on your side. And I truly do serve the King of Goblins. I know your history with him isna the best, but I need you t' trust me a wee bit." He ended with his voice nearly a whisper, entreating her to listen.

After a long pause, Sarah took a breath and replied with a question. "Why … did you defend him like that?" she asked carefully. "Because he's your ruler? Because you'd get in trouble if you didn't?"

Darius cocked his head, shadows falling darkly across his brown face. "Because he's my friend," was the simple reply. "An' I need no other reason than that."

"… Okay," she finally said heavily, deciding that she had no choice but to trust him – whoever this strange person was. "Okay. I'll trust you. A little. But," and now she peered up at him through the shadows of dawn, "if you don't mind my asking … what _are_ you?"

The corners of Darius' mouth quirked upwards, hinting at another smile. "I _could_ tell you," he began, the good humor beginning to return to his voice; "but the name would make no sense t' you. My people don't figure greatly in th' legends of your world."

"But-" Sarah began, only to be cut off by a raised finger. "However," he continued after a moment; "If you'll allow me, I'll remove the glamour draped about me and _show_ t' you what I am."

"…All right," Sarah replied, hesitating only a moment.

Darius reached upwards and slowly removed the large, wide-brimmed hat from his head, revealing a rather handsome, dark-brown face framed by long, shoulder-length locks of black hair. In the growing light Sarah could just make out a faint scar, nearly healed by time, running across and through his eyes, which were a clouded gold.

For a moment, his outline shimmered and blurred, bending with some strange, unearthly light, before resettling into a crisp, clear image once again – an image that made Sarah gawk in wonder.

It was _him_! The cat-like creature she had drawn yesterday afternoon – what felt like a lifetime ago, now. His large, cat-like ears twitched as she gasped softly, his mouth opening in a broad, amused smile that revealed long, white canines, just like her drawing. He allowed her to gape for a minute longer before placing the hat over his head, the illusion – glamour, as he'd called it – falling over him once more. This time, though, Sarah could clearly see the faint shimmerings of light flickering around the edges of his form, belying his apparently human exterior.

"My people call themselves _kieran_," Darius offered after a moment of silence between them had settled. "But we're more commonly known as 'cat-hawks' – like how humans are mostly referred to as mortals, though they're not the only mortal race there is."

Sarah blinked – this was the first she'd heard of other races existing who weren't 'immortal' in the sense that the Fae were – immune to age and disease, living for uncountable ages. "Really?" she queried, interested in spite of her resolve to remain on her guard around Darius Stoneclaw. "Humans aren't the only mortals?"

He sent an incredulous look in her general direction. "Truly, miss, did you honestly expect a world with so many races and creatures would have only one race that's what you term 'mortal'?" His look softened slightly as she cleared her throat in embarrassment – actually, she hadn't thought about it that much at all. She had simply assumed – something she should have learned not to do so much after her time in the Labyrinth.

"I was mortal, once," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Not really sure _what _I am, anymore. Living in th' heart of the Labyrinth tends to alter a person more'n a bit."

Sarah rubbed her hands briskly up and down her arms against a sudden chill – a chill that had come at the thought of the Labyrinth altering someone so much that they could no longer be termed as 'mortal'. It reminded her too much of Jareth's ominous threats to turn Toby into a goblin. "Even if you don't want to be changed," she murmured to herself.

Somehow, Darius caught the remark – though, she told herself later, she shouldn't be surprised, considering how large his ears _really_ were. "It is naeone's choice if they wan' t'be changed or no," he told her softly. "After all, it changed you, and I don't think you've regretted the change, lest I've not been readin' you aright. But then, most everything changes everything else, so I don't know why you're so surprised."

"I suppose," Sarah mumbled, somehow reluctant to admit how much she appreciated the changes the Labyrinth had wrought on her spoiled, teenaged self.

Darius cleared his throat quite suddenly, abruptly uncomfortable with the contemplative moment. He reached up and scratched the back of his head awkwardly, seemingly searching for something to say. "Well, I suppose I'd best be off then," he said finally, glancing off to the left of Sarah in his uncertainty. "I, ah … hope ye'll think about what I told ye, about Jareth …"

"Wait," Sarah started, fumbling for a moment before continuing, knowing that if she stopped to think about what she was about to do, she'd never manage it; "I … um, that is … I mean … would you like some … tea?" She finished her sentence rather desperately, knowing she was grasping at straws – but grasping for what, she wasn't quite sure.

He gave her a blank look – his aim was quite good for a blind person, she noted distractedly. "Tea?" he repeated after a moment.

"Er … yes. Tea." Mentally, she began beating herself about the head for not coming up with a better reply.

He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully at her. Merlin whined anxiously as Sarah waited for an answer, his long tail thumping agitatedly against her leg. Suddenly, Darius grinned – a broad, open grin that was startlingly white against his dark face. "Sure," he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Sure, I'd love some tea."

"Good," she said, returning his smile with one of her own, though she knew he couldn't see it. "Um … how do you … ah …"

"I know the way to your house well enough," he interrupted, thankfully cutting off her embarrassed stuttering. "Unless you think a shop will be open at this hour …"

"No! No, no, we're going to my house," she assured him hastily. Inside her head, a small voice was shrilling insistently at her, demanding that she get a grip, _now_. What was she thinking, inviting yet _another_ Fae into her house, her home? Did she _want_ to … to … she frowned pensively. Just _what_, exactly, was she afraid of? Of going back to the Labyrinth? Of being kidnapped by someone like … like Gwydion? Of seeing her old friends in their home again, of seeing a wonderful, magical land again?

Of losing control of her life again?

She shook herself briskly, shoving her troublesome thoughts to the back of her mind. "Okay, then," she said, starting off towards her house, Darius walking beside her. Merlin trotted between them, pausing every once in a while to sniff intently at the _kieran_ before whining and continuing on.

They spent a few minutes like this, in awkward silence that seemed to Sarah more oppressive by the moment. She fidgeted, biting her lower lip and twisting her gloved hands together, throwing glances towards Darius every once in a while, searching for something, _anything_, to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Darius," she suddenly burst out, causing him to glance her way, a surprised look on his face. "How did … I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but … ah, how did you … um …"

"How was I blinded?" he finished calmly, giving her a friendly grin. She blushed furiously, ashamed – it really wasn't her place to pry.

"Ah – yes," she admitted, eyes fixed on the sidewalk before her. "Actually – yes."

He was silent for a few moments more, causing her to shift awkwardly, wishing she hadn't said anything at all. "It was about five years or so back," he said suddenly, startling her. "By your terms, that is – normally, we don't move by a mortal clock, but your … _interaction_, I suppose, with us has … made our time a mite more unpredictable than usual. Any interaction Aboveground seems to … _ground_ us, I suppose, though I try not to get into the technicalities of the whole thing – they make my head ache."

"I was … I don't know what you'd call it – on border patrol? We try to keep an eye on the places where our boundaries border with another kingdom's … you never know who might cross over, or what they might want. But … it was nearing twilight, I was distracted, and I'm not as at home in marshes and bogs as I probably ought t' be. I never saw who did it – all I remember is this bright flash of light, burning … probably some magic weapon … pain, of course, and then _everything_ was darkness. I know it was a kelpie – I could smell that much, they have a distinct scent; though it was much disguised by the marsh … they come from marshes, y'see."

"Strange thing is, whoever did it never came back t' finish the job. It's _fell_ strange, really; if ye're an enemy of the Goblin Kingdom, and manage to successfully ambush the king's second-in-command, why stop at just _blindin'_ me? Why not just kill me? But that was all – one strike an' they were gone." He shook his head, frowning deeply. "Somethin' just seems _fell_ mismack wi' th' whole thing – I dinna like it. But it's been five years now, an' nothin's come o' it yet."

Sarah was silent for a moment, mulling his story – and the implications of his actually telling it – over in her mind. "You know, you didn't need to tell me that," she said finally, quietly, chancing a look over at his face – it was troubled, and thoughtful.

"I know," he replied, just as quiet. "I know."

For a while, the only noises were the sounds of their footsteps, Merlin's nails clacking against the pavement, and the tapping of Darius' cane. This time, however, the silence was not nearly so oppressive – in fact, it was almost comfortable, though Sarah was a bit uneasy with the thought of feeling at comfortable in the company of _any_ Fae, once mortal or no. Besides, she had things to think about, now more than ever – he'd called himself the "second-in-command" of the Goblin Kingdom, after all. _That_ had thrown her for a loop. Why was he – someone of obvious importance in the Labyrinth – the one relegated to be her body-guard? Why not someone under him? Why …?

As much as she wanted to deny it, it seemed that there was some actual concern on Jareth's part for her well-being … and for some reason, that did not unnerve her as much as it should have.

Merlin woofed softly, bringing her back to the present, and she realized that they had reached her house. "Oh – we're here," she told Darius, fumbling in her pockets for the key. "Watch it – we've got stairs," she added, automatically reaching out and grabbing his elbow, steering him onto the narrow stairwell. He nodded his thanks as she hurriedly unlocked the door and shoved Merlin inside. "Come on in," she called, figuring that that was as good an invitation as any; "The hallway's clear, just watch out for the rug."

He walked inside with only a touch of hesitation, standing in the middle of the hall, waiting for her to finish hanging up her things. "Here," she said when she was finished, "give me your coat and hat – I'll hang them up for you."

He handed them to her with a hint of a grin, revealing a large, dark-green sweater and brown trousers made of some material that Sarah didn't recognize. She raised her eyebrows over his attire. "You wear normal clothes?" she asked as she draped his things over the coat rack.

He shook his head, now truly smiling. "Not usually," he admitted, "but I didn't want to call attention to myself if I could avoid it – you never know who might have a drop o' the Sight and notice something off."

She laughed slightly. "No, I guess not. Here, the kitchen's this way …" She took him by the elbow once again, and was surprised when he didn't protest, but allowed himself to be lead into the kitchen, which was warm and toasty after the chill of the winter morning. She showed him to the table, and then turned to fill the kettle from the sink as he seated himself, leaning the cane against a nearby wall. "What kind of tea do you like?" she asked, placing the kettle on the stove and opening a cupboard door to reveal her choices. "We have chamomile, green tea, peppermint, Earl Grey, black raspberry …"

"Peppermint, please," he replied, listening as she pulled out two cups and the box of tea bags before hunting for a clean spoon.

"Sugar or no sugar?"

"One spoonful."

"'Kay." She dropped one spoonful of sugar into his cup, and three into hers – she needed the sugar-shock, this early in the day.

Darius rested his arm on the table, frowning as it wobbled slightly. "D'ye know your table's broken?" he asked her, grasping the edge in his hand and shaking it again.

"I know." She sighed as she sat down in the chair beside him. "We haven't had time to fix it, lately. It's … been a rough year."

Darius rapped the table with his knuckles, once, twice. "It's a good table," he told her in all seriousness. "Sturdy. Shouldn't take much to fix it. Made of good wood – none o' that imitation grummel you humans use so much."

She smiled. "'Grummel'. I like that. Means garbage, right?"

"Aye." He nodded, grinning at her. "Jareth gets sair bothered when I talk like that – can't understand a word o' it. Quite funny, truth be told."

Sarah tried, and failed, to see Jareth, the imposing Goblin King, getting flustered over a few Scottish words. "He doesn't quite fit my idea of 'funny'," she replied. "Strange, perhaps. Peculiar. Bizarre."

Darius laughed, a sound that startled her – it was a strange cross between a nice baritone and a strange kind of … almost _purring_ sound. Obviously, the glamour didn't disguise what he sounded like … though she supposed it made a strange kind of sense, remembering his many cat-like features. And it was actually quite a nice laugh, once she got past the initial strangeness of it. "Oh, if I could only see Jareth's face if he ever heard ye callin' him all those things," he laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "It'd be quite a sight t'see – he isn't used t' anyone but me callin' him such names."

Sarah couldn't withhold an incredulous snort at the thought of her _ever_ calling the Goblin King all those names, and coming out of the encounter alive and in possession of all her normal extremities. "I don't think the Goblin King and I are on pleasant enough terms to be calling one another names and both walk out of the room intact," she informed the _kieran _dryly. "Chucking various heavy and sharp-edged objects at one another, now, that's another story …"

Darius opened his mouth, about to say something, but cut himself off abruptly, head turning towards the second doorway of the kitchen. Sarah, puzzled, turned around in her chair, only to freeze in sudden horror as she realized what had silenced him so abruptly …

Karen was standing in the kitchen doorway in her bathrobe and slippers, staring at the strange young man sitting at her kitchen table.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I really am that evil. My first cliff-hanger ever - you like? More like "despise", but, hey ... 

**STUPENDOUS CONTEST! MARVELOUS CONTEST! **Two of my original characters introduced in this story are related. Can you guess who? Whoever guesses correctly will be entitled to this - my writing _one original one-shot_, in the Labyrinth fandom, of any pairing of characters of your choice, including all of my OC's. The pairing may be romantic or friendly, and may be het (guy/girl), slash (guy/guy) or femslash (girl/girl) - your choice. _I_, however, will determine the intensity of the pairing if it is romantic (e.g., I don't write lime, lemon, or any kind of explicit thing, so don't even bother asking.) Also, no incest.

And now, to my reviewers, who have waited for a _whole year_ for this moment:

**E. Harper** - Thank you _so so much_! You have no idea how much that means to me. Also, thank you for pointing out that little error in the first chapter - if you check now, you'll notice it's fixed! And, maybe Gwydion's name sounds familiar because it is a popular fantasy name? (It sounds familiar to me, too, that's why I picked it - I go to a baby-naming website for all my character names.)

**Ridel** - I'm delighted you like the story so much. I very much hope you survived the wait for this chapter - honest to god, I was working on the story the _whole time_... it's so much better now ... anyway, here's hoping the next wait won't be nearly so long!

**your little brother** - How did you find this? Why are you reviewing when you _live with me_ ...? (yes, this reviewer really is my little brother. I have confirmed it.) Thankies, tho.

**offbeat musician** - Yes! I'm continuing! I swear! I'll never, ever, _ever_ leave off so long again! I'm so happy you like this so much. It's going places, finally - I'm so happy!

Until next time! (_Not_ a year again, not even _close_ ...)


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